Recovery
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: Sometimes the first steps to healing after an unspeakable horror requires the help of another who care. IMPORTANT NOTE - if you are under the age of 18 you should NOT be reading this fic. This fic is NOT descriptive but it still deals with the delicate matters and a warning is included under the disclaimer.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor anything mentioned, from Twilight. They are the property of Stephanie Meyer and I make no profit from this piece of fanfiction.**_

_**Important Notice:**__** While this work of fiction does not dabble into too much detail there is mention of Rosalie's past which, as we all know, involved a rather brutal rape. Please also note that this involves steps towards rape recovery, not the rape itself. Still, if such things are triggering for you, I would suggest that you read no further than this notice and instead click the back button.**_

* * *

It was not a rare occurrence, for human memories to be entirely erased during the transition. Sometimes it was the change itself, the inferno razing all but the most basic of instincts and learned behaviours. Other times the memories were still lingering like half-forgotten dreams, only to be swept away during the wild ride of the first year as a newborn.

The former was the case for Jasper. He had awoken as a vampire with no knowledge of his life as a human, simply able to do things but unaware of the hows or whys behind the actions. Landed with the responsibility of training other newborn vampires, he had been required to rediscover the knowledge on his own, and _fast_.

The latter might have been the case for Rosalie, had she been given respite from the knowledge of the horror she had suffered mere hours before the beginning of her change. But she had not been offered peace, not by a long shot. Oh he did not doubt that Carlisle, Esme and Edward had tried their best to help her get used to the life as an immortal, to move on from what had happened to her, but such were also shackles. The sympathy of their mother-figure, the pity in the eyes of the two men, the gentleness, the leeway, the treating her like a broken porcelain doll. All would have been reminders Rosalie could not escape, nor forget with her infallible immortal recollection.

It is no surprise, then, with such musings, that she still suffered as though those men had forced themselves upon her just the day prior. Flashbacks, panic attacks, _fear _around male vampires not of their coven (though she controlled such a potent emotion rather well, but was that not testament to how long she had been forced to live with it?). Even with Emmett's help, she still suffered, a fact which never failed to catch Jasper's long-dead heart in a punishing vice-grip even as it caused him no end of frustration. Not with Rosalie, but with himself - he couldn't _help _her. What kind of soulmate couldn't help their partner? A useless one, clearly.

* * *

Several weeks of negotiations, talks, reassurances, promises and thinly-veiled threats later, they were alone, just as Jasper had been aiming for. Out in the woodland, but not hunting. Just a peaceful travel for the two of them, time to recuperate from living with five other vampires in such close proximity for an extended period of time, time to shake off any remaining annoyances at any of those five, time to _themselves _as a mated couple. Rosalie suspected he was up to something, he could feel it lingering in her emotional climate, but in truth? He had no plans aside from removing her from the family for a few days. It was there again, the gradual descent of her emotions signalling the looming onset of a flashback he would try to coax her out of. They were no longer frequent things – perhaps one every few years or so – but such a gap between attacks of the memory came at a price. The flashbacks nowadays were severe, to the point of engaging all five of her senses in unwanted recollection, reducing her to a wreck of dry sobbing and heaving. Even worse, for Jasper, was the time it would take for her to recover, for the shadows to leave her eyes, for the flinch from his touch to settle again, the instinctual distrust, the fear, the desire to _lash out _or _flee_. He had to do _something_, _anything _to help her beyond the attacks.

* * *

"What are you doing, Jasper?" Ah, there it is - the suspicion. Layering her voice in threatening sweetness, fire in her eyes and steel in her grip on his wrist. It does not stop the calming waves of peace and security he sends her way, weaving a delicate blanket of care around her.

"Do you trust me, Rosalie?" He adopts the quiet murmur that would all but hypnotise humans, allowing his fingertips to brush against her scalp as he runs slender digits through her hair, strengthening the work of his gift with the physical contact.

". . . Of course. " Ah good, there, the gradual softening of her stance indicating the beginnings of relaxation. It prompts the slightest of smiles from him, a _genuine_ smile, the kind only Rosalie is ever allowed to see given the flirt of _shy _in them. He leans forward then, pressing the softest of kisses to her forehead and closed lids, dusting her temple before a feline-like nuzzle of his check to hers is given, a faint croon gracing the shell of her ear next.

"Then relax for me, sweetheart. . . that's it. . . good. I want you to focus on my voice - remember that I am here, I am calm, there is no danger here. . . You have no reason to panic, no reason to be afraid, I am here with you, I'm not going anywhere. . .You are safe with me, my darlin', I promise. " He removes his clothing while speaking, taking care to move naturally but quiet so as to avoid breaking the trance-like state he has managed to induce. **They** had cruelly bared and attacked her while fully clothed, he would not allow even the slightest similarity to be present in this. Sharp eyes watch her carefully for any signs of lingering tension or stirrings of renewed suspicion, monitoring her emotions while keeping them calm and at peace. If she tried to fight him, this wouldn't work. Even so, he is careful to limit his influence, wanting her to still be _aware_ of what is going on around her. This was not an effort to trick his mate, nor rob her of her own free will. Only to guide her through the brewing nightmare with as little pain as possible, with the hope of possibly soothing the wounds still raw to this day in the process.

"Take my hands, Rosalie. . . feel the scars, remember **my **touch. . . you are safe with me, you are loved, you are cherished. . . no harm will come to you here, my darlin', I promise. " Hands find his, delicate and soft where his are deadly and toughened. Thumbs rub small circles into her skin, a gentle massage to keep her physically aware of **who **is standing in front of her. Useless oxygen is drawn into his lungs in one sustained breath and held there for a few moments before slowly released again, exhaling against her face.

"Breathe in my scent, sweetheart. . . It's only you and I here. We're alone, we're safe, nothing can hurt you. . . that's it, nice deep breaths. . . Feel the scars on my hands, remember **my **touch. . . can you show me where you hurt, Rosalie? Can you do that for me? " Resistance, flaring to bright life in her emotions, jerking her fingers where they hold his hands, pain and anger lancing through the serenity he has managed to weave for her.

"I don't - no, Jazz - I can't -"

"Yes you can, it's just us, remember? Let me help you, Rosalie, just this once. Please, darlin', let me help, _trust _me."

"I -"

"Am safe. I am loved. I am precious. I am cherished. I am respected. I am strong. I am protected. I am damaged, but I am not broken. Repeat it with me, Rosalie, _feel _it, _know _it. . . I am safe. I am loved -" He waits until she speaks the words with him, easing off some of his influence so her eyes can properly focus on him while most of her mind remains in fog, fingers tightening on his in time to the spark of ire. Oh he will pay for this, of it he has no doubt. She can be vengeful when the mood strikes her, and she _loathes_ his help in dealing with her past. But no more can he sit around and allow it to tear her apart. No more will he allow Royce and his bastard companions hurt her from their graves. _No more_.

* * *

It is a slow process, swinging back and forth between progress and pauses. Rosalie eventually caves with minor prodding on his part, guiding his hands to where **others **had once bruised her flesh, broken the most fragile of bones, **drawn blood**. It all but makes his venom boil, enraged that she had been forced to endure such violence, but he swallows back the violence. He had promised calm and safety - to allow negative emotions a foothold in himself would only make the walk amongst the wolves of her mind all the more dangerous for her, and he would be damned if she would ever fear for her safety in his company.  
Down her body he works with her guidance, fingers applying pressure to creamy marble wherever she stops his hands. Some areas she speaks of the injury, others she does not, but regardless of the words offered, he massages with care, sometimes leaning in to press a kiss to her skin only after asking permission to do so. None of it would be happening if Rosalie was unwilling, even with his calming influence. He does not have the power to take her will from her or rob her of her mind, only to calm the terror and anger that would usually halt her steps forward. Was this not what a soulmate should do? Gently worship their partner, learn of their past, soothe those old wounds, replace pain and violence with love and care? Less and less of his influence wraps her in a safe cocoon, until eventually he is not employing his gift at all, and that is when the tearless sobs start, sending the tiniest of tremors through her where she stands, moving her hands from his to instead rest one on his shoulder, the other tightly fisted in his hair, sharp teeth clamping down hard on bottom lip until it is as pale as the rest of her face. He tends to her like that, kneeling on the forest floor naked as the day he was born, with no desire or need of his own to speak of, hands clasped on her hips and continuing the small circular motions meant to offer a direct counterpoint to the violence and force she had once been mercy to. There is no scream or overloud exclamation when she peaks, only quiet gasps for unneeded breath and a tightening of her grip to the point it causes an _ache _in his scalp. She relents only moments afterward, sinking to his level as though boneless, and he simply holds her in a tender embrace, face tucked into the crook of her neck and lips moving with quiet "_I love you's_" over and over again, trailing up and down the length of her strong spine with a touch so light it would shame the soft brush of a feather.

* * *

The storm has passed, but there is no destruction left in its wake. Only the lingering impression that there would be moisture tracks upon her cheeks if immortals had the capacity to shed tears. Minutes pass, how many he does not know, nor does he care. He could kneel like this for weeks and feel no inclination to move. Her breathing eventually loses the sobbing hitches and the tremors stop, slender arms eventually shifting from being thrown over his shoulders to return the butterfly touches, fingers mapping the scars on his shoulders and back, smoothing out the riotous mess of hair she has caused, lips lingering at his temple. The _sudden _pinch has him jerking in surprise, drawing back to give her a look of silent **ow**. She frowns as much as there is the faintest hint of a smile, and punches him in the shoulder hard enough to **hurt**.

"You are one sneaky little shit, Jasper Whitlock."

"You wouldn't have me any other way, Ma'am."

". . . This doesn't mean everything's better, Jasper."

"I know. Only a fool would think otherwise. But if I need to spend the rest of eternity replacing hurt with love, pain with care, then I will. You are precious to me, darlin'. You are the most exquisite creature **I **have ever seen, and I'll be damned if there's ever a time you don't see yourself as I do."

"I am safe. I am loved. I am precious. I am cherished. I am respected. I am strong. I am protected. I am damaged, but I am not broken."

"Exactly. Don't ever forget it."


End file.
